


The Annual Piglet Hunt

by EdwardHyde10



Category: Beyond Sidneyverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdwardHyde10/pseuds/EdwardHyde10
Kudos: 3





	The Annual Piglet Hunt

The Annual Piglet Hunt  
By  
Edward Hyde

“Ready, girls?” Mr Menzies stood with the starting pistol in his hand. “When I fire the pistol, you will have five minutes to get into the woods and try to hide. When you hear the pistol again, you’ll know that the hunters are coming!” The fifteen little girls, all aged between four and seven years old and all as naked as the day they were born giggled excitedly, waiting in the mid-afternoon sun for their signal to run. The woods was actually nothing but a small copse, run too far into it and you would very quickly find yourself out the other side! But it was plenty big enough for the game and provided plenty of places to hide or to dodge anyone pursuing you. “Okay, on your marks, get set, GO!” The old man fired the starting pistol in the air and the gaggle of small girls rushed off up the slight hill to take refuge in the trees. The adults and non-participating children who had gathered to watch clapped and cheered as they ran, many shouting encouragement to their daughters or siblings.

Next, the hunters stepped up to the line. These were the older girls, aged from eight upwards with the oldest being fourteen, most of them veterans of previous hunts both as hunter and prey. Unlike the smaller girls, the hunters were dressed in cammo fatigues complete with boots, ammo-belts and hats. Several also wore sunglasses to protect against the bright sun that they knew from experience could be quite dazzling if it unexpectedly broke through the foliage in the other gloomy copse. There were ten hunters in all, volunteers like the prey, all armed with low-velocity paintball guns which might sting but not cause actual pain or do damage unless fired at point-blank range, each loaded with paint pellets of a different colour. 

After the hunt, the annual celebrations would continue with much feasting, girl-meat being the bulk of the food to be enjoyed. That was the whole point of the hunt and the rules were simple. The older girls, the hunters, were sent to stalk the younger girls, the prey, in the woods and try to shoot them with their paintball guns. They would have fifteen minutes to track and shoot the naked little girls and there was no limit to how many different hunters could shoot the same prey. At no point were they “out”, they could continue running, hiding and teasing the hunters for as long as the had stamina. Once the fifteen minutes were over, the starting pistol would be fired again, a noise loud enough to be heard in even the thickest part of the copse, and the hunters must immediately stop their pursuit. 

All the girls, hunters and prey, would then come back down the hill to the party area where, in front of the excited revellers, the prey would be inspected. Should any be found to be paint-free, aside from the soles of their feet as it was recognised that this would more likely come from stepping in the paint rather than being shot, they would simply return to their families and get dressed. Next, the colour of the paint on the nabbed preys’ bodies would be compared with the paint that had been issued to the hunters. 

The small girls who had been hit by the hunters would then be scrubbed clean and, in front of the watching crowd, beheaded, gutted and butchered ready to be cooked at the feast. Many, in fact most years, all the meat came from these younger girls, or “piglets” as they were known, but sometimes the attendees were treated to an extra-special centre-piece. If any of the hunters should have failed to hit any piglet at all, judged by whether or not their signature paint could be found on any of the piglets’ bodies, they would have to strip naked too and be cooked alive on a spit. Every year, those gathered to watch the hunt hoped there would be at least one hunter with a poor aim or bad luck that day!

“Hunters, get ready!” Mr Menzies shouted again over the general hubbub and the crowd quietened down in anticipation. “Thee! Two! One! GO!” He fired the pistol into the air once more and, to the whoops and cheers of the watching crowd, the ten hunters raced up the hill, each eager to bag their first piglet and to avoid ending up on the menu themselves! 

Six year old Polly stopped just inside the copse and allowed the other squealing, giggling piglets to run past her. This was her third hunt and she had a strategy. Her first had been survived by simple dumb luck but on her second, the year before, she had noticed something and decided to take advantage. Not that she especially minded the idea of being caught, she wouldn’t have volunteered if that were the case, but this was a game after all and what was the point of playing a game if you weren’t going to play to win? If she survived this hunt and next year’s then she would be able to join the hunters the year after and that actually struck her as a lot more fun!

The fact she had noticed was that all the piglets tended to run deep into the woods and either try to run around or find somewhere to hide. The hunters, all of whom had been piglets themselves at one point, understood and expected this so didn’t tend to start looking for prey very seriously until they’d walked twenty meters or so into the copse. Very close to the edge, but hidden enough by the first row of trees that anyone watching from the bottom of the hill was unlikely to notice, was a very climbable tree. Polly had noticed it on her way out after the final gun at the end of her first hunt and had resolved to try a strategy the next year. 

It had paid off perfectly so she was going to rely on it again. All she had to do was climb the tree once all the other piglets had run off then, when they hunters came, they would walk straight past her and all she had to do was bide her time until the hunt was over. Giggling to herself over her own cleverness, the naked little girl began to climb the tree. 

Five year old Amy was looking for a good hiding place. She was a little on the chubby side and not nearly as athletic as most of the other girls, many of whom were part of gymnastics or dance clubs. She knew that lots of them liked to run around, teasing the hunters and dodging their paint-pellets which, due to their low velocity, had a fairly short range, but she knew that if she tried that she’d be out of breath and shot in the first couple of minutes. 

Some of the white girls had jokingly complained the girls like her with dark skin had an advantage as it was easier for them to camouflage among the trees but her big sister Carol, experienced hunter and veteran piglet had explained that this would only work if she stayed dead still as it was movement that the hunters tended to notice more than anything else. Yes, if she stood dead still against tree with her eyes closed or curled up next to one, she might be easier to miss from a distance than someone who was highly reflective pale colour but the moment she moved, she would give herself away. For someone like her, the best bet was to find a good hiding place.

Looking around urgently, Amy spotted a fallen tree-trunk that had rotted in the middle, turning it into a tunnel. It looked big enough to crawl into and she didn’t think she would get stuck. Even if she did, she would just have to wait for the third gun-shot which signified the end of the hunt then call for help as shooting a piglet after that was strictly against the rules and any hunter caught doing so faced disqualification and live butchering as a warning to others. She had never seen this happen, not had her sister, but they had both heard stories from the years before they were born about over-confident hunters who believed they would never get found out! Carefully, she wiggled her chubby nude body into the hollowed-out trunk and waited, trying not to breath too loudly.

Most of the prey were running around wildly. Tripping, bumping into each other and giggling, not really caring if they got caught or not, but seven year old Mackenzie considered herself apart from them. She was the oldest among the piglets and next year she would be joining the hunters. She looked sneeringly at the younger girls, confident that she would be walking out of the copse scot free and enjoy watching those who had been shot get butchered. Those who survived this year, she would be going after next year and she was sure that they would not be around for the following year. 

“Keep the noise down!” She hissed angrily at the two sisters who were stood close by her and giggling. They were four and five years old and, although aware of the consequences of losing, were treating the game no more seriously than they would a game of hide and seek. 

“Lighten up!” the older girl told her. “This is supposed to be fun!” 

“Maybe you think it’s fun to get your head cut off!” Mackenzie sneered, displaying a perfectly teenaged attitude despite only being just over half way there, “But I want to be a hunter next year and if by some fluke you survive this year, I’ll come after you hard then! Not that you will, anyway!” She gave a cruel smile.

“What do you mean?” the younger of the two asked, “Why can’t we win this year?”

“Look at you,” the seven year old pointed at the two cutely tubby sisters, “then look at me!” She indicated her own lithe, toned body, honed to perfection, as she saw it, through years of gymnastics and swimming. “Who do you think’s going to have a better chance of getting away from the paint?”

“Who do you think’s going to be the more sought-after prize?” The five year old asked, archly, raising one eyebrow. 

Just then, the second shot rang out, startling the pigeons in the trees who had only just settled back down from the first. There was much squawking and fluttering up in the trees and the two little sisters ran off giggling, holding hands, leaving Mackenzie on her own. The hunters were coming. 

Up in her tree, Polly heard the hunters running into the woods. They were quieter than the prey and tended to take the hunt more seriously. After all, it was their skill that was being tested. From where she sad, the six year old could see most of the girls disperse as soon as they were in the copse, knowing that most of the piglets would have run straight to the far end and that there would be easy pickings there. One, however, the oldest of the hunters who she knew to be called Jenna, stopped and leaned against the tree she was hiding in. 

This puzzled Polly. Did the fourteen year old know she was there and hope she’d come down before the final gun? After a few minutes of doing nothing, Jenna pointed her gun at the top of the tree opposite and fired. There was a soft popping noise and a rustling as the pellet disappeared into the foliage. 

“Oops!” She said in a comically loud and deliberate voice. “Silly me! I missed her!” She fiddled with the gun in her hands for a sort time more before taking another shot, this time into the leafs on the forest floor. “Oh no!” She declared again, “Whatever is up with me today! I just have the worst luck!” 

“What are you doing?” Another hunter, a black girl of around eleven that Polly recognised as Amy’s big sister Carol, approached Jenna curiously. “Looks like you’re not even trying?”

“Oh hey!” Jenna grinned, “How’s your luck today?”

“Not bad, got a couple of cuties on the but and one on the belly!” Carol chuckled, “Done my bit to feed the hungry without having to do it literally for another year. But what about you? You waiting for some to run this way ‘cause I don’t think that going to happen!” 

“Nope!” Jenna shot almost directly up into the air and Polly was relieved to see that the pellet arched and began its downward journey far short of the branch where she was sat. Clearly even if they spotted her up here, she would be safely out of range. Unless, of course, they decided to climb up after her. But it didn’t seem like either girl was too bothered about finding more prey for the time being. 

“You know you get cooked, right? If you don’t shoot anyone?” Carol really wondered what had got into the older girl. Jenna was famous among their community as the best hunter. This was her final year before retiring and giving up her space to one of the younger, up and coming girls and everyone expected it to be her best ever, doubting that any piglet would make it out of the woods without Jenna’s bright orange paint adorning some part of their body. 

“Well duh!” Jenna laughed. “I’ve wanted to be cooked since my first hunt! I’m just do damn competitive and could never do anything but try my best. Every year when I was a piglet I hoped one of the hunters would be too quick or clever for me but they never were so year on year I kept surviving. Then I became a hunter and I guess I was too good at that too!”

“So what’s going on now?” Carol asked. “You certainly don’t seem like you’re playing to win this time!”

“Trust me, it’s hard!” Jenna laughed, firing off another random shot and loudly cursing her own clumsiness, “But this is my last chance and I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna ride that spit today!” 

“Well, okay!” Carol laughed, “If you say so! There’s a few minutes left so I’m gonna go see if I can ruin at least one more piglet’s day!”

“Good luck!” Jenna grinned. 

“Umm, you too!” Carol chuckled again, shaking her head as she stalked back into the trees in search of further prey. 

Amy was not sure how much time had passed since she secreted herself in the log but there had to be less time to go than she had so far endured. Her hiding place was cramped and she was starting to feel pins and needles but so far, at least, it seemed to be working. She had seen various pairs of little bare legs run past and the occasional booted hunter but so far nobody had thought to peer into the log. 

The hollow wooden tube created strange, echoey distortions in the sounds that reached her – the crunch of leafs under foot, the pop of the guns, the squeals, giggles and occasional exclamations of pain from her fellow prey. It was impossible to tell which direction any were coming from or how close they were. Suddenly there was the pop of a gun far louder than any she had heard so far and almost at the same time she felt a stinging impact on her left buttock. 

“Oh poop!” She exclaimed before sighing. Whatever else happened now, she was food as soon as she got back. Not that she minded too much – the idea of having her head cut off while everybody watched was actually quite exciting, but things had been going so well in her hiding place and she had started to suppose that she may actually survive this hunt.

“You might as well come out!” She heard a voice from outside as someone patted the top of the log. “Go run around for a bit, see if you can tease some of the other hunters.” Although she knew she had already lost the game, Amy was reluctant to come out of her hiding place. 

“Hey, sorry, but that is how the game goes!” The hunter who had shot her crouched down to look into the end of the log that she was facing, the other end from where she had been shot. Amy recognised the pretty twelve year old red-head as Daisy, a good friend of her sister’s. She wondered if Carol would be cross with her friend for nabbing her and whether she’d be more cross about the fact that her little sister would now get butchered or that she hadn’t been the one to shoot her! 

“You had the right idea ‘though. I only know about this hiding place because I used it myself for years. That’s how I survived to be a hunter! Anyway, you can come out if you like or stay there until it’s over but you’re going to need to come out sooner or later so you might as well stretch your legs while you have the chance!” With that, she was gone, off in search of more little piglets to splatter with her pellets. Although annoyed at having been found, Amy conceded that she had a point and started to wriggle backwards out of the natural tunnel, judging that to be the easier option than trying to go forwards. 

A little over six minutes later, the pistol was fired announcing the end of the hunt. Knowing the rules, all the hunters immediately lowered their weapons and popped any remaining loaded ammo out into their hands before stowing them in their belt pouches. 

“Hey!” Polly called to Jenna, clambering down to one of the lower branches. “Can you give me a hand? It’s easier to get up than down!” 

“Oh, hi!” the fourteen year old blonde looked up in surprise then grinned at the little girl in the tree, more monkey than piglet. “Have you been there the whole time?” 

“Sure have!” Polly giggled. “Don’t tell anyone, will you?”

“I don’t think I’d have the chance even if I wanted to!” laughed Jenna, slinging her rifle over her shoulder and holding up her hands to Polly. “Here, take my hand, that’s it. Now, jump!” As Polly trustingly did as she was told, Jenna caught her and swung her around playfully a couple of times before setting her down. 

“No paint on you!” the older girl observed. “I guess you get to eat dinner today rather than being dinner!”

“Yup!” Polly grinned. “I want to be a hunter like you! I just have to get through next year and then it will be my turn!” 

“Well, good luck with that!” smiled Jenna. “Sorry I won’t be around to see it.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Polly admitted. “I was kinda surprised but if it’s what you want then why not? I bet you’ll be tasty!” 

“Let’s hope!” Jenna grinned broadly. “Come one,” she help out her hand which the younger girl took happily, “let’s go face the music!” 

Shortly behind them came the two sisters who had annoyed Mackenzie earlier, both almost covered in paint, front and back, having been shot multiple times and definitely for the chop yet still giggling and teasing each other, mostly about which bits of the other’s body were going to be the tastiest.

“Looks like you got what you deserve!” Mackenzie strutted past them imperiously, head held high and shoulders back, her athletic young form entirely paint-free. “Guess that’s what happens when you don’t make an effort! Well, see you on my plate later!” She made to continue walking but the sisters, after a sly glance at each other, ran to catch her up then pounced, hugging her tightly from both sides and rubbing their paint-covered bodies against her, transferring a fair amount of their decoration to the previously unblemished canvas of her skin.

“Hey! Quit it! No fair!” Mackenzie wailed as she realised what they were doing. “That’s cheating! I won, damn it!” 

“We just wanted to congratulate you on your success!” The younger sister teased. 

“Yeah! But oops, I guess you’re on the menu now too!” her older sister giggled. “I guess that’s what happens when you don’t make an effort to be nice to people!” The sisters walked on, hand in hand once more and giggling more hysterically than ever. Mackenzie looked down at herself. There was paint of varying hues over almost every part of her. There was no way she was going to be able to convince the judges that she hadn’t been shot!”

“Little bitches!” She muttered angrily, before huffily following them in the knowledge that she would be joining them on other people’s plates. 

“So how did you do?” Carol asked her friend Bethany, another eleven year old with curly, light-brown hair. 

“I don’t know. I think I got one.” the girl replied uncertainly.

“You THINK? What the fuck, Beth?” Carol was genuinely shocked. “You should have said, I’d have helped you out! I’m a pretty good shot, I could have done a couple with your gun!”

“I know.” Bethany sighed. “I should have asked but I kept thinking there was more time to get a couple of good clean shots in but then… well, then time ran out.”

“You know what happens to hunters who don’t shoot any piglets, right?” Carol asked.

“Yeah.” Bethany nodded a little weakly. “Guess I just have to hope I did, right?”

“I guess.” Carol nodded and they walked in silence down to meet the waiting judges. 

As the hunters and prey trooped down the hillside, judges were waiting to separate out those piglets who would be going home at the end of the day and those who certainly would not, other than in other people’s stomachs! Mackenzie glared daggers at the still-giggling sisters as she was ushered to the right to join the other paint-marked girls who would soon be butchered. She thought about protesting, about trying to explain that she had not been hit but that the sore losers, as she saw them, has transferred some of their paint onto her but she knew that there was no point. The rules were very clear. As nobody other than the hunters and piglets themselves were in the woods to witness what transpired, a piglet was deemed to have been shot if she had paint anywhere on her body other than the soles of her feet. It didn’t matter to the judges how it got there – a painty body meant you were on the menu!

As well as Mackenzie, Amy and the two sisters, six more piglets were rounded up for slaughter. Of the fifteen who had entered the woods only five, emerged clean, Polly included. These girls, after a brief inspection by the judges, were allowed to go and rejoin their families. Polly’s mum offered her a T-shirt to put on and some of the girls were wrapped in towels by their parents but Polly preferred to stay naked. The weather was nice after all and it was not as if she had any secrets to hide any more! 

Once the prey had been sorted and the painted girls rounded into a sort of pen close to the scaffold and cooking area, it was the turn of the hunters. Two women stood by the pen where some of the piglets were crying but most were watching excitedly, ready to assess the paint colours on their little bodies and confirm who had been successful. Only one piglet appeared to be sulking, her arms folded angrily across her flat chest, and that was Mackenzie!

The ten camo-clad girls lined up, their rifles slung over their shoulders. Jenna was on the end, grinning to herself, looking forward to seeing the reactions of the audience where they learned there was going to be some spit-roasted teen meat on the menu in addition to the butchered piglets. On instructions from one of the judges, each girl took a pellet from their pouch, gripped it in a hand held out in front of them and crushed it before opening their palm to reveal the colour of their paint.

“First,” the judge addressed the watchers, “we have one of our most experienced hunters who is sure to have bagged us all some tasty treats for this, her last feast before retirement. Jenna Harcourt!” Jenna walked towards him with a confidence that bordered on swagger, already anticipating the mixture of shock and delight that would come when her “kill-count” was tallied up. “So, ladies,” the judge smiled, looking at the paint in Jenna’s hand, “how many of our piglets have orange paint on them?” The women began to look at the little girls in the pen, casually at first but then growing more intense and urgent, asking certain girls to turn around or stretch out their arms or legs. 

“Um… none!” The woman looked up, clearly shocked. “She doesn’t seem to have shot any!”

“Well this is a surprise!” The judge looked at Jenna with suspicion, “Are you sure you have the right colour paint there? You’re usually our most skilled hunter!” 

“I guess my luck had to run out some time?” Jenna grinned and gave a cheeky wink. “I guess that means I’m on the menu?” 

“Well, um, yes!” The judge shrugged and shook his head. “Since you failed to shoot a single piglet, you will provide the centrepiece of the feast! Please disrobe.” Another man stepped forward and took the attractive blonde’s gun, belt, hat and glasses. She then shook her hair out and performed and unhurried strip-tease, much to the delight and appreciation of the crowd. Once she was completely naked, having removed the matching bra and panties she had bought specially for the occasion, she held her arms out in front of her demurely, wrists together, and allowed herself to be led over to the scaffold where she was tied with the rope around her wrists to one of the supporting poles. She stood with her curvy round bottom sticking slightly out as she watched the rest of the judging with interest. 

“That certainly was a surprise!” The judge announced before moving onto the next in line. As each girl was called forward to be judged, the line closed up to fill their space and the crowd edged forward, closer to the action. Amy’s sister Carol’s paint could be found on eight of the ten piglets, other girls typically scored four of five but none less than two until it came to Beth, the girl who was unsure as to whether she had managed to shoot any piglets at all. 

As Beth walked forward nervously, arm outstretched, Polly noticed that she was standing where the older girl had and the grass by her bare feet was splotched with the bright green paint of Beth’s pellet. As they had done with Jenna, the woman inspected all the piglets thoroughly for signs of green paint but found none. 

“This is certainly the year for surprises.” The judge spoke to the crowd. “It seems we have another hunter who failed to mark any prey!” From her captive position, Jenna watched her friend’s face fall and she wished there was something she could do to help. “For the first time,” the judge announced, “we will have two hunters on the menu.” Beth bit her quivering lip and tried to hold back tears. “Of course as this is an unprecedented scenario,” continued the judge, a little uncertainly, “we only have one spit so we will decide how we prepare Beth in due course. But for now, Beth, I must ask you to disrobe.”

At this, Beth could hold back no longer and burst into uncontrollable tears. Never the less, she handed her gun and ammo belt to the man who stepped forward for it and began to unzip her jacket. There were no cheers, whistles or cat-calls this time as there had been with Jenna. Everyone, the judge included, was feeling very uncomfortable with the situation and wondering if there was any way to let her off without violating the tradition. 

Glancing down at the floor, an idea occurred to Polly. Quickly, she crouched down and dipped the tips of her fingers in the paint and dabbed it on the back of her neck where it would be hidden by her shoulder-length blonde hair. 

“Call out ‘I think you missed something!’” She hissed to the teenage boy standing behind her. 

“Huh?” He was confused, too distracted by Jenna’s naked body to notice much else of what was going on around him. 

“Call out ‘I think you missed something!’ and push me forward! Quickly!” Polly instructed again. The boy still had no idea what the small girl was talking about it but she seemed pretty insistent so he thought it best to go along with what she said. 

“Hey!” He called out, loudly to the judge as Beth dropped her jacket on the ground and was just starting to lift her salmon-pink vest-top, ready to pull it over her head. “I think you missed something!” He pushed Polly forwards with his hands on her shoulders and the young girl walked almost as confidently as Jenna had over to where the judge and hapless hunter stood, watching her in surprise. 

“What’s going on?” The judge asked, looking down at the naked little girl who now stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. Beth looked equally puzzled but with a flicker of hope on her face – was she about to witness a true miracle?

“I don’t think your friends did a very good job with the inspection!” Polly explained, trying to look serious and not to giggle. “I felt something hit me on the back of the neck in the woods. It might just have been a bug or something but I think it’s worth checking, don’t you?” She turned her back to him, popping her hip coquettishly as she stood. She saw her mum watching in the crowd, a look of warm pride on her face. Clearly she had realised what her compassionate young daughter was doing. Polly threw her a wink and she responded with a discrete thumbs-up. 

The judge pulled Polly’s hair aside and saw the two small green splodges. He thought it was unlikely that they had been missed earlier and they looked suspiciously like finger-dabs rather than impact splatter but the girl had presented herself willingly and the rules did state that a piglet would be deemed to have been shot if paint was found anywhere but the soles of her feet! This was the get-out he and much of the audience had been looking for. He gave Polly’s shoulder a squeeze as he turned to address the audience, acknowledging her kindness and silently thanking her for it. 

“It seems Beth did, in fact, bag us a tasty piglet for our feast!” He called to the approving cheers and applause of the crowd. “Go on, piglet,” he patted Polly’s bare bottom. “Go join your friends!” Polly happily skipped over to the holding pen where the smiling ladies let her in. 

“The next stage, of course,” the judge called, “is the washing of the piglets! Since we now have two more piglets than hunters, perhaps we can have some volunteers to wash the remaining prey and help prepare them?” Various hands shot up and he pointed to two older teenage girls, themselves both veterans of the hunt. They came and stood with the hunters. “Thank you! Now if each hunter would like to select a piglet, we can begin!” 

The hunters and their assistants made their way over to the pen while buckets of warm, soapy water were brought out. Beth of course went straight for Polly, taking her gently by the wrist and leading her out onto a patch of grass ready to scrub, not that she needed as much cleaning as most of the other girls!

“Thank you!” She spoke softly as she dipped a sponge in the water and began to wash the small girl’s belly. “But why did you do that for me?”

“You looked so sad!” Polly explained. “I wanted to help!”

“But now you’ll be cooked instead!” Beth looked worried but Polly only giggled. 

“I don’t care about being cooked!” she grinned. “I wouldn’t have entered if I was worried about that. It’s not like anybody made me!” 

“So why did you try so hard to avoid getting shot?”

“Because I like to win, silly!” Polly giggled teasingly. “I wanted to get out of the woods without being caught and I did! So I win!”

“But now you’re going to get cooked anyway, just like if you lost!” Beth began to wash the inside of her willing prey’s thigh. 

“But I know I didn’t!” Polly assured her with a grin. “It was my choice, not because someone else was faster or cleverer than me!”

“Well I guess that makes sense!” Beth allowed herself a small laugh and she wiped the soapy wet sponge over Polly’s appealingly chubby vulva. “But anyway, thank you!” 

Obviously the killing and butchering of eleven little girls takes some time, especially to be done properly, and few among the clubs membership had the patience, or indeed the stomach to watch the whole procedure. Of course most parents would stay long enough to watch at least their own daughter dispatched and there were those who, out of curiosity, respect for the girls or other reasons of their own, would choose to stay and watch the butchering from start to finish. Etiquette had been established through tradition that all the attendees would stay to witness the first butchering, after which they were free to wander off to get more drinks or return to any of the other games or activities of the day until the meal was ready. 

Of course this year was a little different – as well as the more than usually high number of piglets on the menu, there was also a very succulent looking long-pig to be spit-roasted and nobody wanted to miss that show! After a quick discussion about practicalities as much as anything else, the organisers decided that the coals for the roasting pit would be lit immediately, followed by the traditional First Slaughter. Once the chosen little girl was reduced to easily-cooked cuts of meat, then Jenna would be mounted on the spit and placed over the coals to begin her live-cooking while the rest of the piglets were prepared. 

This was explained quietly to Jenna herself and she heartily agreed, not wanting to waste any time before, as she put it, getting her cute little ass over the coals, but understanding the importance of tradition as well as the practical need to give the charcoal time to reach its optimum heat. 

Since there was, in truth, hardly any paint on her, it did not take Beth long to have Polly cleaned, rinsed off and ready for butchering. The girls tasked with cleaning up the two young sisters who had condemned Mackenzie for her rudeness, however, faced a far greater challenge as the girls seemed to have gone out of their way to get shot as many times as possible and were practically coated head to toe, the paint three or even four layers deep in places! In the end, however, even they were scrubbed clean, leaving their pink little bodies gleaming in the late-afternoon sun and looking very delicious indeed. Most of the prey, like Amy, had only one or two sizeable patches of paint on their bodies so, by the time the cheeky sisters were clean, all the other piglets were stood waiting, naked and scrubbed, for what awaited them next. 

The judge and his various assistants instructed the piglets to mount the scaffold – a raised platform with a wooden beam above, running the length of the platform. Along the front of the platform were metal rings through which a rope could be threaded. First, each girl’s wrists were tied together with a long piece of rope that was then thrown over the upper beam so that they piglets could be hoisted off the ground. Despite the discomfort, most of the soon-to-be meat girls found this quite entertaining and giggled as they kicked their feet and swung around until their ankles were also tied and the rope looped through the metal ring below them, stretching out their delicious young bodies and pulling even the chubbiest of bellies taught. 

The Butcher, a large man who was actually a butcher by trade but used to dealing with more conventional livestock, relishing the treat of being able to slaughter and butcher such luxury meat, walked along the line of mostly-giggling girls to make his selection as to who would be the First Slaughter. Even those who had been crying earlier were now more relaxed, having found the washing a fun experience and having been reminded how happy they were going to make everyone with their delicious meat. Some girls, however, were starting to frown and pout, finding hanging by their arms uncomfortable and feeling their limbs starting to go to sleep without being able to wiggle enough to prevent it. 

“You look like a fine specimen!” He stopped by Mackenzie who couldn’t help feeling a little proud despite her annoyance at ending up on the menu when she had managed to avoid getting shot. She had, after all, worked hard on her body and it was nice to have her effort recognised. The Butcher studied her more closely, pinching her round, pink nipple until she squealed then patting her thighs, rump and arms to feel for meatiness. “Yup!” He grinned at her. “You’ll do!” Mackenzie actually felt happy – she may not have survived the hunt but at least she was going to be centre of attention! The crowd cheered as the Butcher waved to them to signal that he had made his selection. While the other girls may have been a little disappointed not to be picked for the honour of First Slaughter, they were all looking forward to seeing Mackenzie’s end. 

A large table was brought forward by two strong men and set in front of the platform. On one end were a selection of knives and cleavers and a bucket hanging from a hook beneath. At the other end was a slightly raised metal rack. A short pole with a very sharp-looking spike on the end was driven into the ground just in front of the table. While all this was being done, Jenna couldn’t help but notice from her position still tied to the end-pole of the scaffold that the coals in the barbecue pit were also being lit. She saw the spit itself propped up against one of the mounts and felt a cold chill of excitement knowing it would soon be pushed through her tight teenaged body.

Selecting a long, thin knife, the Butcher retuned to Mackenzie once more, the knife in one hand and the metal bucket in the other. He set the bucket down on the floor and with his free hand felt the seven year old’s belly once more then ran his hand lower and slipped a finger into her moist opening. The audience laughed and cheered as he stimulated the surprised child to orgasm over the course of only twenty or thirty seconds. The Butcher had been doing this for many years and knew his trade well. 

While she was still in the throws of her ecstasy, the Butcher felt the back of Mackenzie’s neck and counted the vertebrae just about her shoulders until he found the gap he was looking for. With practised skill, he pressed the tip of the knife into the indentation then gave the end of the handle a sharp smack with his other hand, driving it in, severing the girl’s spinal cord and rendering her paralysed from the neck down. Her body visibly slumped against the ropes as she went limp, unable to move but still able to feel a fair amount of what was done to her body. Mackenzie could not help but sob and cry out as the knife was then driven into her toned belly, just below the breast bone, and pulled downwards, slitting her to just above her groin. 

Whistling contentedly as if this were simply a normal day at work, the Butcher began to heave out the little girls intestines and other viscera, dumping them into the bucket at his feet. Using the knife once more, he reached inside her warm body cavity and made a number of deft cuts, releasing the ends of the various innards that still clung to her and leaving her emptied out. Setting the bucket and knife aside he then selected a different knife, cutting first the rope that held her up, leaving her gutted, paralysed but still very conscious body to flop over his shoulder, then the rope which had pulled her tight via her feet. 

The Butcher laid the hollow and sobbing little girl on the table, arms stretched out over her head, and selected one of the larger cleavers. His first chop severed her left food around half way down the shin, ignoring her screams of pain as he then repeated the process with her right foot. He then walked to the other end of the table and severed her delicate little hands, removing both with a single chop. 

Now that her arms were no longer encumbered by the ropes, the Butcher moved the arms of the screaming child down to her sides, leaving better access to her neck. There were cheers and whoops from the audience as he brought the cleaver down once more, beheading the delicious little piglet and ending her suffering, and even louder cheers when he help up the severed head like a trophy before ramming it onto the spike. A few minutes and some deft cleaver-work later, Mackenzie’s athletic young body had been reduced to a pile of chops and steaks, piled up on the rack and ready for the grill. 

It was his normal method to slit the throat of a meat-girl before commencing the gutting and that is what he would do with the remaining ten piglets, but the Butcher knew the audience expected a little more from the First Slaughter – that it was as much about putting on a good show as preparing the meat. From the way the audience were reacting, they had certainly not been disappointed this year! 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the Judge who also had general hosting duties announced as the Butcher’s now very bloody table was moved to the side and wiped down, ready for him to process the remaining piglets, “it is time for the second highlight of the day!” A small frame was wheeled into position and the spit carried into the middle of the performance space. Jenna grinned and felt a shiver of excitement once more! This was it – her big moment had arrived! 

The two women who had been checking the piglets for paint were the ones to untie Jenna and lead the naked teen to the frame where she was secured once more, this time with Velcro straps that left her standing facing the frame, sideways on to the audience, with her feet shoulder-width apart and her arms above her head in much the same formation. 

“Ready?” One of the women asked. Jenna nodded excitedly, not trusting herself to speak. “I’ll try to lower it gently, but do try to move with it. If you make it pull you, it might be quite uncomfortable and you may even tear a muscle and we wouldn’t want to do anything to spoil your meat, would we?” She smiled warmly at Jenna who took a deep breath. The ladies released a couple of catches that allowed the top of the frame to be lowered forward so that Jenna now stood bent in the middle, her small but nicely-formed young breasts pointing towards the ground and her shapely rump sticking out behind her, providing a perfect target for the spit! 

Once the meat-girl was locked into position, the other woman took the spit and fed the sharp tip gently at first into Jenna’s vagina which was slick and welcoming, wet with anticipation. At first there was no resistance until the tip reached her cervix. Now the woman had to push a little harder. Jenna winced but did not cry out from the pain as she felt the cruel spike force its way inside her, pushing aside what it could and ripping through the rest as it made its way further and further through her abdomen. Her insides felt as if they were on fire! 

The first woman knelt down in front of her, cupped her face both for comfort and to correctly position her head. 

“That’s it.” She spoke soothingly, giving a comforting, motherly smile as she did so. “Nearly there. Not long to go now.” She peered inside Jenna’s open mouth and saw the tip of the spit emerge, erupting from the back of her throat. She moved aside slightly to avoid the inevitable splash of blood that Jenna coughed up then signalled to her colleague that the spit was through. She took a cloth and wiped the blood and other fluids from the six inches or so of metal that protruded from the pretty teen’s mouth then took hold of it and began to pull, stopping only when it extended roughly as far out in front of the girl as it did behind. 

Now the other end of the frame was adjusted, raising Jenna’s shapely, athletic legs parallel with the spit. Pairs of steel cuffs were slipped on either end and, once the Velcro restraints had been removed, the young girl’s wrists and ankles were secured to the spit, ready for mounting. Jenna had got her wish and, in a little over an hour’s time, the audience would get theirs! 

It took a little over half an hour for the Butcher to finish off the rest of the piglets, by which time Jenna was well on her way to being done. As each girl was butchered and parted out, ready to cook, volunteers would collect the meat on a tray and take it over to the grills near the spit where others would take turns supervising the cooking. 

With so many piglets to slaughter, in order to keep the few who stuck around to watch and to break the monotony for himself, the Butcher decided to be a little more creative, breaking his usual routine of simply cutting every throat and gutting them while they bled out. A near-by tree-stump provided a handy chopping block and, when he felt he could trust a girl not to struggle or try to run away, he would cut her down alive and behead her with the largest cleaver. He could not deny that beheading a live girl was far more satisfying than removing the head of a dead one! There was something about the way they willingly knelt down and stretched out their delicate young necks for his blade that he found very appealing! 

The young sisters asked to approach the block together and their obvious enthusiasm caused the Butcher to grant their wish. After all, they had been shot more times than the rest of the piglets put together so it was clear that they desired nothing more than to end up on the grill! The delightful, chubby little girls had walked hand in hand to the by then extremely bloody stump, both still giggling every bit as much as they had during the hunt! In fact, both were still giggling as their heads came off, leaving their cute little faces fixed in an expression of delight and mirth that was so charming that the Butcher decided to display them next to Mackenzie’s rather than throwing them into the barrel with the others for disposal, along with the inedible offal.

There was only one spike, of course, but two of the buckets the soapy water had been in were quickly repurposed and, turned upside down, provided nice little display plinths. Of course when the celebrations were over, the three heads would be disposed of just like the others but for now it was nice to see them and enjoy the happy expressions of the delicious little meat-girls. 

Polly was the last to be slaughtered and she too opted for the block. Having seen her selfless act to save Beth earlier, however, the Butcher decided she deserved a little special treatment and, as she knelt demurely in front of the block, he used his highly skilled fingers as he had with Mackenzie to give the brave little girl her first and last orgasm, bringing down the cleaver and severing her head at the moment of climax so she died feeling the happiest she had ever felt. 

Everyone tucked in heartily to the piglet meat, once the hunters had taken first pickings as was their right, but everyone made sure to leave room for a slice or two of the spit-roast teen! Just over an hour after she was mounted on the spit, the first of Jenna’s meat was ready to carve. Once again, her fellow hunters were served first, starting with Beth who thought the slice of golden-brown rump meat handed to her in a burger bun was the most delicious meat she had ever tasted! 

By the time the many families who had celebrated the day together made their way home that evening, they were already starting to look forward to next year!

THE END


End file.
